Hello Stranger
by ZabuFanfics
Summary: Chandra Nalaar only wants two things: to forget her ex and to avoid falling into another relationship. The first is easy enough, but when Jace Beleren forces himself into her life, she finds it difficult to attain her second desire. Can she open her heart as well as her mind to what he has to offer her? Written for a prompt on Tumblr. Not my usual ship.
1. Order up

"Hey, guess who's here."

"I'd rather not. I'm really bad at guessing games."

"Oh, but I think you knooooow." My friend, Elsbeth, smirks. She knows I know. There's no one else she would draw my attention to. I mean, we see plenty a number of freaks and burnouts in this diner, but she'd never ask me to guess whether or not the obvious transvestite or the drunkard who only ever orders eggs over easy is here. I really wish it were, though.

I sigh, smoothing out my apron and begin to exercise my plastic, kind waitress smile.

"Let me guess, he's asked specifically for me again, hasn't he?" I roll my eyes, reaching in and pulling out my pad of paper and reach over to steal the only pen on Elsbeth's person out of the breast-pocket of her uniform.

"You know, I bet he fancies you, Chandra." She snickers. "Why do you act like that bothers you? How long has it been since you've been back on the market now? Three years? You should give the guy a chance."

"Why, because he comes in ever week or so and specifically asks for me just to order coffee?" I ask her sarcastically. "Oh yeah, if that's a reason to try and jump a stranger's bones, I don't know what is."

"You know, sometimes I think Gideon turned you into a lesbian the way you shrug off men the way you do." Elsbeth complains. I shudder slightly, closing my eyes and trying to wash away the memories she's dredged up just by mentioning _his_ name. I'm honestly surprised I didn't swear off men after him- after the hell he put me through before dropping me like a hot mess and left without even trying to clear up any of the bad blood between the two of us.

"Wanna test and see?" I ask her, leaning in so that our faces are dangerously close. I can smell her perfume and the smell of the cherry cigars she always smokes on her breath. She cocks an eyebrow and leans away slightly, a frown tugging on her lips, obviously not up for trying anything. I click my tongue and roll my eyes. Even if I were into women, Elsbeth isn't my type. How she dolls herself up, her taste for anything bright and adorable, her inability to stand anything without some sort of fruity flavor, her weird, hero complex- honestly I'm surprised we're as close as we are as it is. Maybe it's because we're the only two girls working the night shift at this old, dirty downtown diner, and instinctually banded together. She needed someone tough who wouldn't try to take advantage of her and I needed someone who wasn't a creature with a penis.

"I'm kidding, idiot." I groan. "If anything, Gideon probably turned me into a strict asexual."

"Christ, just go and take his order already." She mutters, her cheeks a brighter shade of red than the blush lightly dusted on her cheeks. "And be nice to him for once. The way you treat him I'm surprised he keeps coming back!"

"Hitting the nail kind of on the head there, 'Bethy." I chuckle as I finally push my way through the kitchen doors and slowly drift into the floor of the diner. It doesn't take long to find him, since he's the only person in the diner at three in the morning who isn't using their table as a pillow. He's been here plenty of times, but he still looks at the menu like it's fascinating and doesn't know what to order. I do, though. I've already written coffee on my pad of paper. I could honestly just have brought out a cup with me.

I don't know his name, since I've never bothered to ask and he doesn't have it pinned to his chest like I do. I just served him the first time he stopped in, and he's been asking for me ever since. His choice of clothing is on the very border or normal and strange. If you looked at him really fast, or caught a quick glimpse of him in a crowd you really wouldn't really see anything peculiar, but he dresses like an alien who's desperately trying to dress like a human. There's always some sort of piece of his outfit or an accessory that makes him look really out of place. He's also a really big fan of blue- and tonight, like every other night, he's wearing almost nothing but.

I'm a red girl myself. Blue's too calm, too quiet. It's the color people wear when try try to seem trustworthy and kind and all it succeeds in doing is make me suspicious.

"Ah, Chandra!" He pipes up as he looks up from his menu, smiling at me like we're good friends who haven't seen one another in a while. Only half of that is true: it's been a while since he's stopped by.

"Mm." I mumble, nodding at him and giving him a half-smile as I prepare to act like I'm writing his order. "What'll it be this time?"

"Just a coffee today." He says after a second thinking, like he really needed to.

"The usual then." I sigh.

"Heh, I guess it is the usual, huh?" He chuckles, sounding almost defeated. I don't even bother asking if he wants sugar or cream. I know he likes his coffee with just a little bit of milk.

The fact he makes up one of the only two men in my life who's taste in coffee I know really pisses me off. Maybe he realizes this and my nice, polite waitress act has begun to slip because he cocks his head like a curious parrot and raises an eyebrow.

"Is something the matter?"

"What? No, nothing, I was... just thinking if I left the stove on at home." I lie. I desperately want to tell him the truth- that whatever he's up to I'm not going to fall for it. Whatever he's after, coming in near the end of my shift like clockwork and asking for me specifically, he isn't going to get it. He's kind and he's handsome and he doesn't freak me out like everyone else who comes to the diner at three in the damn morning but so was Gideon. I don't trust nice looking, nice, trustworthy guys any more.

"Well, here's to hoping it's not."

"R-right..." I nod before turning back toward the kitchen. I take large, fast steps so that it only takes he two seconds and only four steps to retreat behind the doors.

"Soooo?" Elsbeth is waiting for me- she probably didn't even leave the place I'd left her. I mean, where else was she going to go? She leans in, ear facing me like she expects me to whisper a secret in her ear. I grunt in disapproval and press my palm against her head and push her away.

"So_ what_? He want's coffee, so I'm getting him coffee so he can drink it and leave." I tell her, heading over to the pots of coffee patiently waiting on heaters. We advertize that every cup we make is fresh but that's a damn lie. We made these pots when I came into work seven hours ago.

"At least ask for his name, Chandra! Or his phone number or what he does for a living or the weather or _something_ ! I mean, you don't have any trouble small talking with other customers!" Elsbeth complains, stamping her foot against the filthy kitchen tile.

"That's because all the other customers are here because they're drunk and have nowhere to go, or are getting out of work at the strip club down the street. They don't have some ulterior motive like this guy clearly does. I know his type- he finds a cute, innocent waitress at a diner and asks for her by name to make her feel wanted and special and pretty." I snap, reaching for a coffee cup on the shelf above me only to have it slip from my hands and fall to the floor, shattering. "Fuck!"

"And what if he does? So what if he wants to try and lure you in? I know a thousand other girls who'd fight for that kind of attention." Elsbeth speaks in a scolding tone as she drops to the ground with me to try and pick up the pieces.

"Really? You know _that_ many girls?" I ask snarkily.

"Shut up, Chandra!" She groans. "What I'm trying to get at is that not all guys are Gideon. You need to realize that or else you're going to live and die alone."

"What if I like being alone, huh?" I ask angrily, placing the broken mug pieces on the counter and grabbing another cup. "Maybe I like the silence and the security of knowing that I'll never get the chance to be hurt again. I gave Gideon everything, Elsbeth. I have nothing left to give."

"But-"

"Oh my god- but _nothing_!" I shout, pouring coffee into the off-white mug and furiously jamming the pot back into place on the heater. "This conversation is over!" I storm out of the kitchen, totally forgetting the milk. I hardly put any in anyway, I doubt he'll tell the difference. I'm also pretty sure I poured in decaff but- fuck, I don't even care any more. The sooner I serve him, the sooner I'll no longer be obligated to see him.

As soon as I throw open the kitchen doors, I'm greeted not by the sight of the almost-empty diner, but a body blocking my way. Surprise is quickly followed by horror and disgust when I realize who it is.

"G-Gideon!?"

I can smell the alcohol on his breath and I can see that hazy, lustful look in his eyes. I've seen it before- so many, many times. So many times where I lied down and took it, so many times when I wished I had the will to leave him when we were still together. So many times when I forgave him.

"I figured you'd be working tonight." He murmurs in a voice I can't tell if he is either happy or angry to see me. "I needed to see you."

"Are you sure it's me you need to see? Or was it one of those other girls you were porking the last time we spoke?" I growl defensively. "I'm not in the mood, Gideon, so get out before I get you thrown out."

"Look, I know I messed up, Chandra, but I can change, I swear! I'm a different man now!" He slurrs.

"You're drunk, and that's not any different at all." I mutter, trying to step around him, but he blocks my path. I try the other way, but he does the same. He's so hulking gigantic it's near impossible to maneuver around him. "Can you please just move! We can do this whole song and dance another time- like when you're sober!"

"I came here to speak to you, the least you could do is listen!" He shouted.

"I have a job to do, and it doesn't involve listening you try and woo me back when you're clearly too drunk to think rationally." I growl. "The last time we spoke, if you don't remember, you said you didn't want to see me again. Do you remember that!?"

"God, could you just shut up for a second and listen!" Before I can stop him, he grasps my arm and I accidentally drop the cup of coffee. The scream of glass seems to alert no one that I can see, at least. Everyone else is too tired or scared or drunk to intervene. The dark liquid pools around us as I nearly slip in it as I try to pull my arm out of Gideon's tight grip.

"Gideon! You're hurting me, stop!" I yell, flinching as he grasps me tighter. I can hear Elsbeth in the kitchen, trying to find someone who has the balls to stand up to the wall of muscle that is Gideon. "I said _let. GO!_"

I honestly suspect a fight- a bruise on my arm and a scuffle to break out. I honestly suspect the mug to not be the only thing that would get broken. But, much to my surprise, Gideon actually does what I ask and slowly lets me go. It's a miracle, and I can't help but stare up at him in open-mouthed surprise as I draw my arm close to my chest and rub where he'd clutched me. There's something about his eyes- they seem more glazed over than before. In fact, his entire expression has changed to a blank, indifferent look as he slowly backs away from me. Surprise turns into confusion as I watch him, trying to figure out what caused such a miracle.

Standing behind Gideon is him- the guy who's name I don't even know, who I've been nothing but cold and distant to. His hands aren't anywhere on Gideon, nor does it look like he has a weapon on his person. It doesn't look like he struck him and he obviously hasn't said a word. He's just watching him closely and following him with his eyes as he leaves the diner without a word. His lips are barely moving, but I can't here anything this mystery guy is saying.

What in the actual _fuck_ is going on exactly?

"Chandra!" Elsbeth cries as she runs in from behind me, our manager in tow. "Are you-!" She looks around, donning a look of complete and utter confusion to match my own. "Where... Gideon was just here! Where did he go!?"

"He realized how much of an ass he was making of himself and showed himself out." My nameless hero explains with a smile. "Thankfully the only damage he did was to your glassware."

"Thank god." My manager sighs. "I really should have told you he came around looking for you yesterday on your day off. I honestly didn't expect him to come back."

"I told you he would! I thought you told her!" Elsbeth gasps before turning her attention to me.

"Chandra, are you okay? You sure he didn't hurt you?" Her hands are immediately all over my body, looking for injuries.

"He just... grabbed me really hard, that's all..." I mutter, looking down at my arm. There's a faint bruise from where he grabbed me, but that's not what concerns me. I look to my customer-turned-savior suspiciously, and he meets my gaze with forced innocence. He _knows_ I'm trying to figure him out, and doesn't want to make a scene about it.

"Well, your shift is nearly over. If you want, you can go home early if you're a bit too shaken up." My manager suggests, obviously feeling guilty he didn't mention Gideon had stopped by before. And who am I to deny the chance to escape work a little early? I sigh, trying to make it look like I'm conflicted over getting to go home.

"I think it's best I throw in the towel tonight, boss." I speak wearily. "Sorry to leave you guys short handed..."

"It's fine, I think we'll be able to keep up." Elsbeth laughs, patting me on the back.

"Sir, I really don't want to impose, but could you walk Chandra home?"

Wait a second... My manager is addressing the man who just saved me. I want to desperately say that I can see myself home. Please, don't make decisions for me right in front of me, sir!

"No problem at all. I mean, just in case that other guy comes back looking for her." He waves his hand dismissively. He speaks before I even have a chance to butt in. All I've managed to do is open my mouth in failed attempts to protest this whole time.

"Please look out for her! Chandra here likes to act tough, but she's actually a big softy. She'll appreciate being walked home." Elsbeth adds, sounding like the only one who realizes I'm trying to turn down the help. She's conspiring against me, and she'll definitely pay for it later. For now I just need to...

I look outside, worry suddenly overcoming me. Feeling the dull ache in my arm, maybe it's best to play it safe and go home with the man who, to my knowledge, made Gideon magically go away. I swallow my pride, my anger and my suspicion, hunch my shoulders, hang my head and sigh in defeat.

"Meet me around back, I need to change out of my uniform." I tell him coldly, turning away just as a smile begins to form on his face as I walk into the kitchen and towards the backroom. My manager stays behind, but Elsbeth follows after me like a giddy puppy, grinning from ear to ear.

"Walking you home- how romantic." She smiles as I whack her in the shoulder. "Maybe you should invite him over and thank him with your body."

"What crazy porno character do you take me for, Elsbeth?" I groan. "I'm just letting him walk me home just in case Gideon slinks back out of whatever gutter he slithered back into. Nothing else."

"Sure, sure, whatever." Elsbeth laughs as we arrive at my locker. "And I'll be here to say I told you so when you two start macking on each other."

"I swear, you have the craziest imagination..."

I put up with her weird poking and prodding until I'm out the back door, where she loudly tells me and my companion who is patiently waiting there for me goodbye, and to not do anything she wouldn't do... whatever that is. Elsbeth doesn't do a lot of things (like mind her own business).

"Your friend's pretty energetic." He quips, nervously laughing. I shrug in response, sticking one hand in the pocket of my sweatshirt and pointing in the general direction of my apartment building with the other.

"I live over that way, not too far from here. If we walk fast it should only take us, like, five minutes." I explain, already beginning my journey toward home. He follows after me, quickly meeting my pace so the two of us are walking side by side. I welcome the silence that falls between us, though it doesn't last long as our shoulders accidentally brush together.

"Oh, sorry!" He exclaims.

"Well, maybe if you didn't walk so close to me..." I mumble. He raises his hands in surrender, taking a short step to the side- hardly enough for me to be satisfied.

"What's your deal, exactly?" I ask him.

"My deal?"

"Oh my god, don't act like you're innocent. You come into that diner every couple of weeks and ask for me specifically just so you can get a damn coffee." I grumble. "You don't even know me."

"Sorry I..." He pauses, looking up at the sky. "Just thought you were interesting, that's all."

"Interesting?" I raise my eyebrow and eye him disbelievingly.

"It's... kind of hard to explain."

"Yeah, and speaking of things that are hard to explain, how in the hell did you make Gideon leave the diner?" I question.

"Oh, was that his name?"

"Yeah, he's my crazy ex-boyfriend- but seriously that isn't the point! Some way, somehow, you made him get up and leave!"

"I... have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshit, you were standing right there watching him! I don't know how you did it, but there's no way you weren't involved!"

"I think you're misreading the situation."

"And I think you're lying out your ass!" I yell, standing in his path and keeping him from moving forward. "Look, I'm not as close-minded as you think I am. I'm not going to flip out if you're some crazy mind-control wizard."

"Well..." He begins, and I stand before him expectantly, leaning in despite myself. "I'll tell you if you go on one date with me."

"E-eh?" I falter, me eager expression and stance totally dissolving.

"Just one date- and I promise I won't do anything weird." He assures me. "One date, and I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?"

"_Everything._" He nods.

"...Fine, one date! But I swear to god, if you try anything creepy or weird, I'm going to make you regret ever stepping foot in that diner." I warn him.

"Is that a threat, miss Chandra?" He chuckles, not the slightest bit intimidated.

"Yeah, sure, if it keeps you from trying anything." I groan, turning around before quickly looking back over my shoulder to face him. "...What's your name, anyway? You know my name, but I have no idea who you are."

"Oh, man, I figured I'd introduced myself at one point!" He laughs and I narrow my eyes in response. "My name's Jace. Jace Beleren."


	2. The Night Begins

I don't even know why I even bother telling Elsbeth anything. As soon as I step through the door of the diner the night after Jace took me home, she's already there, lingering in the doorway with lights glimmering in her eyes. I swear she's like a damn dog the way she's mastered the look that makes you give into her requests which, this time, was asking what had transpired between me and Jace. Mid-sentence I'm already regretting considering telling Elsbeth about the upcoming date, because I'm watching it happen: her smile grows so wide it looks like it might tear her face in half, and her eyes grow as wide as dinner plates and she looks so damn happy, like a proud mother hearing about how her young child aced a test. My expression, however, sours.

"Don't even say it." I groan, pushing past her, but she keeps tight on me, breathing excitedly down my neck as she grabs my shoulders, slowing my escape.

"Y-You..." she begins slowly. Maybe, given the speed at which she's speaking, I'll be able to put a stop to her ear-splitting cheer for me before it even happens. Of course, who am I kidding? Trying to put a stop to this woman's joy is like trying to stop a rock slide with just your hands.

"Elsbeth..." I growl, trying to sound as annoyed and threatening as I can as we arrive at my locker in the back room.

"You're going on-"

"I swear to god, 'Beth, I will dip your hands in the fryer if you-"

"-A _DATE_!" Her obnoxiously happy scream is accompanied by one of her patented tight bear hugs. Elsbeth _looks_ petite and sweet, but the way she grabs you when she hugs you makes you question whether or not she's apart of some sort of fight club she isn't supposed to talk about.

"No, no!" I protest, groaning audibly as she begins to happily bounce up and down with me still tightly in her clutches. "No, Elsbeth! Down girl!" I finally manage to wriggle from her grasp and return to preparing for my shift. "Sweet, merciful Christ, seriously, you act like he proposed to me..."

"How'd he manage to woo you, huh?" Elsbeth asks, a sly grin on her pink, glossed-up lips. "Was he romantic? Did he sweep you off your feet?"

"He was mysterious and awkward and- no, he didn't 'woo' me, so don't fucking call it that!" I snap as I remove my sweat shirt and grab for the shirt of my uniform hanging in my locker. "I'm going on a date with him in exchange for information."

"Information about what?" My friend leans in eagerly. I begin to speak, opening my mouth before promptly closing it. If I tell her it's to see if he's some kind of crazy mind-control wizard, she'll either think I'm lying or take it as a joke. She wasn't there to see him seemingly magically make Gideon leave the night before. She didn't see the slight flame burning in his eyes as he watched that hulking bastard leave. I only really have one other answer at my disposal, and it will only make her bother me even more about it.

"It's really none of your business, Els'." She immediately pouts and gives me a playful shove as I'm concentrating slipping on my slacks. I stumble violently and spin, running into the locker before me. Seriously, I reiterate: A fight club she isn't supposed to talk about.

"Come on, I'm, like, your best friend!" She complains, putting on her most sad, quivering pout that she can.

"You're my only friend, Elsbeth." I correct her. "But that doesn't mean I have to tell you everything."

"You told me everything about Gideon!"

"That's because I was young and innocent and wanted someone to listen to me just in case I was found dead in a river somewhere." I groaned, tying my apron. I swear, her whining is consuming so much of my concentration, I've forgotten how to tie a knot. "Now come on. We have hungry, tired bums who panhandled their way to get here to serve. No time for gossip."

"You'd _better _tell me how the date goes!" She grumbles, following after me towards the front of the diner.

"Sure, sure, whatever." I sigh, approaching her threat the same way I'm approaching the date: with as little enthusiasm as possible. I'm not going on it because I fancy the guy, or think that he's sweet or want to thank him for what he'd done the night before. I'm in it to get an explanation about what he'd done, and I'm going to get it regardless of how the date goes. I could go half-drunk in sweats and I'd still get what I wanted. The half-drunk part actually sounds really tempting, really.

I swat Elsbeth and her angry pout away once more before we walk onto the diner floor.

* * *

I stand right outside the lobby of my apartment building, still under the protective shade of the entryway as I look out into the rain. The weather suits my mood as I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket- everything but the moist part about it, at least. It's been raining all day, and I've done nothing but take my anger and nerves about the date I'm currently waiting for out on online first-person shooters full of 12-year-olds who all have apparently been with my mother. I've literally exerted the most energy throwing on whatever clothes I had lying around than I did the entire day. I'm not excited, I'm not giddy, I'm not shivering with anticipation. I'm still waking up. And it's six in the afternoon.

I can't help but be a little nervous because it's been a good three years since I've gone out with anyone other that Elsbeth to anywhere but super hero movies or self-defense classes. I don't want to admit it, but my years of putting effort into being single and never romantically interacting with men has left me a little green. I clench and unclench my fists in my pockets, acknowledging my sweaty palms.

Just as my inner turmoil over my inexperience with men comes to a head, a car pulls up along the curb in front of me. I'm no expert on cars- just what looks nice and what looks like it's come straight from the early 90's or a scrap yard. And this car looks smack dab in the middle of "I have way too much money" and "I have a tiny penis, so I compensate by buying really fast, impressive cars". I suppress a glare as mister-potentially-rich-and-probably-poorly-endowed rolls down his window, waving at me from inside the car and calling my name over the din of the downpour.

"Chandra!" Jace is beaming from ear to ear. He's way too happy for this kind of weather. In fact, he looks absolutely energetic. My expression and mannerisms are complementary as I half-run to his car, feebly trying to use my arms as cover from the torrent of rain falling down from the clouds that just barely lazily wisp by the tops of the buildings.

"Sure is coming down, huh?" He asks as I open the passenger-side door. I look around me at the rain, wordlessly proclaiming, "duh!" before sliding into the car. The upholstery is leather and the seats are heated. Someone is pulling out all the stops on the "I have a really fancy car" train.

"Okay, so tell me-" I begin before he cuts me off more than eagerly.

"Questions later. Right now we should probably get going or else we're going to be late." He interrupts. I roll my eyes and sigh, looking to him. He's dressed to the nines (at least, as close to "the nines" as you can get in cloths that still seem just a little bit off in nothing but shades of blue) and I'm sitting beside him in a half-soaked jacket and ripped jeans with my hair tied back. In all honesty, it's a look that took me no more than 30 seconds to put together.

"...Where exactly are we going?" I dare to ask as we pull away from the curb.

"Well, first, we should probably get you something nice to wear." He begins.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I groan, though to be honest I do look really out of place next to him and his fancy-ass suit in his expensive-looking car.

"Nothing, nothing!" He laughs apologetically. I throw him an annoyed glare, although he's driving and I'm pretty sure he doesn't see it. "I just think you should look your best for where we're going, that's all."

"Which is...?" I impatiently pry.

"The opera." He tells me simply, a smile on his face. Oh god, why didn't he bother to tell me? I would have put a little more effort into my outfit had I known he was going to take me somewhere classy. My cheeks match the temperature of the seat I'm sitting on as I look back down at my clothes. This is what I get for being the least amount of enthused for this date. "It's a really nice production- I've heard nothing but good things about it."

"Look, we can just swing back around to my apartment and I can grab a dress." I begin to tell him, looking back at my apartment building that's vanishing behind us in the fog. "I mean, I don't even have enough cash on my for an outfit suited for a damn _opera_!"

"Money isn't an issue. I'll pay for whatever you pick." He assures me warmly. This does nothing to sooth me, though.

"Please, don't waste your money on buying me a dress I'll only wear once! I have better clothes than this back at home, I swear!" I protest.

"I take it not a lot of people make you kind gestures like this." He chuckles lightly, to which I turn to him, practically shooting death beams from my eyes. "Money isn't an issue, I promise. Just think of it as thanks for all those coffees you've served me."

"Nice clothes in exchange for being served cheep, diner coffee seems like a really bad trade." I comment in defeat as I slump in my chair and look out the window. We're heading towards the nicer part of the city, where there's a coffee shop on every other corner and some luxury boutique on all the rest. The arts center where the opera house happens to be is at the very center of this opulent part of town, but I still feel uncomfortable. I always feel out of place here, me and my thrift-store clothes and the stink of the late shift at a cruddy diner still clinging to me. People here can tell when you're from the other part of town, and they practically run into each other turning up their noses at you.

I look at my reflection in the damp side mirror outside and take out my ponytail, trying to look as nice and presentable as I can in old clothes I pulled out of the damn hamper.

We pull up to a fancy-looking dress boutique not too far from the arts center. Vines with brightly colored flowers curl around the shop window and door. The dresses displayed in the window look incredibly nice and expensive, but at the same time seem a little oddly designed. Like Lady Gaga had a small hand in deciding what stitch went where. They remind me of Jace's clothing style, if he were a girl.

"We're here." He announces as I begin to open the door. "Whoa, hey, let me grab you an umbrella at least!" I snort, taking pleasure in taking away chances for him to act like a nice, upstanding gentleman. He's already buying a damn dress for me and taking me to an opera I've probably never heard of. He's not getting any more than that.

"And what, get the clothes I'm not even going to wear wet? Don't bother." I snort before stepping out into the rain. He hesitantly follows, an umbrella in his clutches, possibly for later when I'm wearing an investment of his instead of crummy old clothes that I've probably owned and worn since high school.

The inside of the boutique smells so overwhelmingly of flowers that it makes me dizzy. The inside has a modern-feel to it, everything a stunning white with as little intricacies as possible. I'm used to places where all the clothes are clumped together on racks, but this place displays each, individual dress like an art piece, standing either on a short pedestal or within a space made for it in the wall, each with their own spotlight. Each one of them is beautiful in a strange, awkward way, and they all look horrifically expensive. I reach out to the first tag I see dangling from a night-black formal dress. Okay, they're as expensive as they look.

"Welcome to Boutique Selesnya!" Someone calls from the back of the store. A young woman steps out, looking horribly flustered, like we'd come at a bad time. Measuring tape is in her left hand and a pair of scissors are in her right. If this is going to be how I die, I can honestly say I never saw it coming. But her gaze falls on my companion and her expression relaxes as she throws the tape over her shoulder and rests her scissors at the checkout counter.

Now that I'm relieved I'm not going to die some weird, unbelievable death, I'm taken back by her beauty. No blemish or dark mark or freckle is on her features, and her smile lights up the already incredibly bright room. Sighing contentedly, she smooths back her long, blond hair and dusts off her forest-green skirt. Sequins that were clinging to the fabric flutter to the ground.

"Glad to see you back, Jace." She says with a smile. As they exchange knowing glances, I figure they must know one another from somewhere. "Have you brought another girl for me to dress up?"

Hey, whoa, what? She's talking like he's done this before; brought another girl in here and bought her a really nice dress. That's oddly suspicious, and my discomfort is once again hiked up as I glance over at Jace, who seems incredibly uncomfortable the woman has even brought up his having been in this very store with different women.

"Y-Yeah, Emmara... this is Chandra. Chandra, this is Emmara. She owns the place." He introduces. The woman presumably named Emmara draws closer to me- way too close, actually. Close enough where I can feel her breath on me as she looks me up and down. She smells like the boutique- like she sampled every available floral perfume at a department store.

"Interesting..." She mumbles under her breath. Normally I probably wouldn't have even been able to hear her, but since she's so close I could probably hear just about anything she whispered.

"Interesting?" I question, and she pulls away, straightening up and laughing like she's been caught.

"Nothing, nothing. You just seem a little... different, as far as Jace's taste in women goes." She explains, and Jace quickly shushes her. She daintily presses her french-manicured nails to her lips.

"Taste in woman, huh?" I mumble as I look over at Jace, who's nervously staring straight ahead at Emmara, who's cheeks are a bright shade of red.

"L-Let's not squabble now, not in the store." Her flawless smile falters as she walks back over to me and circles me a few times like a curious bird of prey before stepping back and resting her chin on her upturned palm thoughtfully. The entire time I'm really only half paying attention to what she's doing. I'm more looking at Jace, who I'm learning about more and more as the date goes on.

How many girls has he brought through, dressed up, and taken to the damn opera? How many girls before me has he pulled this on? I'm not going to just let this be- oh no, not after what I've been through. As soon as Emmara randomly saunters energetically back into the back of the store and out of sight, I turn to Jace and give him a frustrated push. He's as stiff as a board and hardly moves at all as he looks over at me, eyes saying sorry before he even manages to get to speaking.

"So, what exactly is your taste in women then?" I ask him, crossing my arms and leaning in in mock curiosity. "Do you lure in girls with your weird, mind sorcery and dress them up? And then what? What exactly am I to you if you've done this exact same thing before?" The more questions I ask, the more flustered and frustrated I get.

"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time, please!" He practically begs. I, at the very least, back off, but keep my cross look fixed on him. A pregnant silence follows, and I groan to break it.

"Well?" I ask him impatiently.

"Look, one, stop it with the whole 'mind sorcery' thing." He begins.

"It's the only explanation I've got, since you refuse to explain yourself." I interject.

"And two, so I've dated one or two women, is that really all that important?"

"It just seems oddly suspicious that you bring them all through here."

"Sorry if it strikes you as weird, but I promise, whatever you're thinking, it isn't like that!"

"Really? Then what is it like? What exactly is going on here?" I growl. "You're walking on incredibly thin ice buddy. I really suggest you stop being so damn vague before you wind up going to the opera alone and I walk back home through the rain."

"Now, now, what did I say about bickering in the boutique." Emmara calls as she reemerges with something draped over her arms. She holds it carefully and away from herself, attention split between us and the bunch of red fabric hanging over her arms.

"Sorry, I really can't stand _bullshit_." I grumble, looking to Jace. Neither of us seem at all happy right now, and it clearly bothers Emmara who forces me to take whatever she's carrying, stepping between us and herding me toward the back of the store.

"Now, now, don't be angry. Furrowing your brow like that all the time causes premature aging." She quickly retorts. "Now, go put this on, and I'll give mister Beleren here a little talking to. Go on!" I eye the two of them, suspicion growing as I slowly walk into the back.

The back of the store is a lot more disorganized. Several mannequins are standing about, wearing half-finished dresses, and rolls of cloth are spread everywhere. Scraps of this and that are scattered all over the floor and spools of thread and packages of needles are occupying every possible space. There isn't a single sewing machine in the entire room, though, and as I look down at what I assume is a dress I realize she must have made this entirely by hand. I hold it a little more carefully as I look around for a place to change.

A full length mirror leans against one of the walls, so naturally I head over to it, unfolding the dress and holding it against my body. It's a red, strapless dress with silver trim. The skirt flares outward, made by layers of solid red and transparent, sparkling fabric in hues of red, and orange, like it was meant to replicate the look of fire. It's a beautifully made dress, but I wonder if it will even look good on me. I definitely won't be able to tell just by holding it up to my frame, so I sigh and drape the dress over a nearby chair and begin to strip myself of my damp clothes. Every now and then as I change, I look over my shoulder just to make sure no one is watching me undress.

Once the dress is on I take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I've never really worn anything this fancy before. It hugs my body like it was meant for me, but for some reason I feel uncomfortable in it. My hair has become wavy from the shower outside and has started to go frizzy from all the moisture in the air. My freckled face and semi-toned frame just seem wrong in something so beautiful. I spin around a couple of times to try and get used to the image, looking at myself from all different angles. I can't seem to concinvce myself that I look okay, no matter how much I look or twirl or carefully fiddle around with the dress. No matter how pretty the outfit, no clothes will turn you into a beautiful swan. I just look like a plain-looking chick wearing a really expensive looking dress, and it all comes across looking awkward and forced.

But Emmara picked it out for me, and the performance isn't going to wait for us, so I wander back toward the front of the boutique- that is, until I hear Emmara and Jace quietly conversing with one another. The conversation seems horribly private, which only makes me want to listen in even more. I press myself tight against the wall and drift carefully toward the front as much as I can without being seen.

"Do you really think she..."

"...I haven't been wrong about one yet, right?"

"Yes, that's true, but... what if..."

"I'm positive, she is. Just trust me..."

I take one more step, and the floorboards creak from under me. Immediately, both of them shut up and look to the entrance to the back, waiting for me to emerge. They definitely aren't going to continue talking, now that they are aware of my presence. Trying to pretend like I hadn't been eves dropping, I step into view. Emmara claps excitedly, swooping in and circling me again, admiring the dress on me from every angle. Jace just seems stunned, standing glued to where he is.

"Does it look... bad?" I ask them.

"No!" They both reply in stereo. Jace nervously clears his throat while Emmara takes over speaking. "It looks wonderful on you. I knew it would. I've been saving that piece for a while now, and now I'm glad I didn't try displaying it in the store. It would be a shame if it were being worn by anyone but you."

"You know, if you lay on the flattery too thick, it starts to sound really unbelievable." I tell her.

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to gush. I really do think you look fantastic in this number though." Emmara turns to Jace, who seems to have taken a liking to the ground judging by how hard he's staring at it. "Doesn't she look nice, Jace?" He looks up, but only manages to allow his mouth to hang loosely open. "Well, Jace?"

"S-she looks fine!" He nods, the blush on his cheeks standing out against his blue attire. "I mean... you look good, Chandra. The dress looks... really good on you."

"...Thanks..." I say cautiously. There isn't a single bit of doubt in his voice. It's genuine, truthful- maybe even painfully so. It almost melts away all of my doubts before I remember the conversation I overheard merely moments ago. I remember I still have no idea what's going on- even less than what I originally thought. I don't know what it is, but I have to suffer through the rest of the night before I get to find out.

"Well, enough gawking. If you two linger here any longer, you'll be late!" Emmara scolds, patting me on the back.

"R-right..." Jace agrees, waiting for me to arrive beside him. "How much is the-"

"On the house." Emmara interrupts, smiling widely.

"Oh, Emmara, you know I can't-"

"Oh, hush. The dress wasn't even on display, and I've been holding onto it for months now. I was honestly thinking of sacrificing it for scrap anyway, so you might as well just take it." She grins sweetly. "Just a little kind gesture for all the business you bring me."

"Thank you..." I say, a little flabberghasted by it all. I'm still unsure about the dress, but if it's one thing I've learned, it's never to turn down anything free. Free samples, free newspapers, free CDs, free really expensive dresses- I take what I can get.

"Yes, thank you." Jace adds, exchanging a smile with Emmara.

"It's no bother at all. Now hurry up and get going. The opera waits for no one."

The two of us nod in agreement as we step out into the rain. Along with the dress, I have an all new set of questions tingling on the tip of my tongue. Just a little bit longer, and they'll all be answered. I hope.


End file.
